Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1887-05-22

WOlllu UOJ uhfS ehOubie i" Wv
Oh. lido wish now | had brought Eglan-
tine" said Miss Lucilla regretfully.
"Such companion she would have
been TO me when you were out and so
beautifully marked on the tail. Mr..
Westbrook made no rejOinder. lie
went in search of the parrots and,
five minutes later, with stout AMI ell
derly spinster hanging bucket-fashion
on his arm, with parrot cage held in
one hand, and a small boy, of grinnlng
aspect, following with another, he des-
perately made his way back to the place
where he had stood but few short
minutes before full of such delightful
expectation.
V.
A PROPOSITION.
"Come at last, John; come at last, -
said Mr.. Puddicombe cordially. "More
than week since your lady-love ar
rived; but | suppose / mustn't blame
YOU. OF course you have brought the
lady with you. Where is she =? "
mo" said John Westbrook des-
perately, throwing himself into an arm
chair opposite, and disclosing bag
gard countenance, 81 haven't brought
her and wish somebody would have
the kindness to shoot me. It's all a
horrible mistake, Mr.. Puddicombe it's
the aunt, and not the niece
1.-The aunt Dear, dear, said the
old gentleman seriously. "Ycu want
the aunt; however came you to ask
the wrong one d? Though | really don't
wonder. Those remarks about damp
in the walls showed such amazing sense
in young woman. Still, if you were
attached TO the aunt"
Attached to the aunt / never
have been, though | seem to be now,
worse luck to it" John Westbrook
reioined bitterly, with a hollow and
mirthless laugh. 4" My letter was ad-
dressed Miss Lucilla Morton. |
never thought of the aunt except As
Miss Morton and yet it seems she
imagire1 it was hers. just think OF
it. Mr.. Tuddicombe It's the aunt who
has accepted me ; it is the aunt-the
old aunt, sir-who has actually come
out 10 UhIIJ lut' 2hHu HSH'Sh h'-O""
what | am to do
Come out to marry you Do You
mean to say you never knew-neyer
suspected -"
Never" said his companion, dog
| gedly "never Once-not even when l
brought you that outrageous letter.
~ he aunt said Mr.. Puddicombe,
musingly. a most astonishing thing
The strabgest thing / ever heard of .
| Thought it was her letter and answered
you and yet you never knew Then
| it was the aunt who was the very sensl-
ble woman, who wrote about n good
cellar-and a southern aspect. A most
desirable point. Don't you think you
could-considering that she is person
of such amazing sense, and that you
might never find another ready to pay
the proper attention to such things
reconcile yourself to it, my dear
John ?"
Reconcile myself" groaned John
Westbrook. expect the sweetest girl
in the world. whom I've loved since /
FIST set eyes on her, and be met by her
aunt instability, if she's day ; old
enough to be the mother of both OF
us and so horribly, confoundedly SEN
timental, too. am a laughing-stock
at Fairfax's. They think I'm marrying
her for her money
"Really-really :" said his sympa.
thetic companion, with an astonished
stare. at is, as / said, the most as
| founding thing ] ever heard of, John.
But why so delicate in the matter
Surely you have--intimated-to her
that It all happens to be a mistake ?
You have not left her in ignorance =? "
"Good heavens You are the only
real friend l have surely You see my
position, said John Westbrook with Il
aroan. "Here she has given up every
thing, she tells me her house, the
garden she was so proud of, her posi-
ton ia the place even-she has told
| everybody she knows she would be an
obi, ct of ridicule if she went back.
She had money well invested it seems,
and, like woman, sold out every
| Livingstone at Il sacritice-t0 turn 1t
all into what she calls ready
money for me. She's lived in the
place all her life her position. that
house of hers, were everything to her.
Can't you sec the situation I'm in p
not to say anything of the rest of it
her answering my letter and fancying
herself in love with me. j don't know
how / keep up the farce. II she didn
happen TO be the best-tempered crea-
ture living, she'd have broken it of
long ago in disgust. And as to mar
rage" said Mr.. Westbrook, with an
other groan, "Tve told a hundred lies
about it already said I'm not so we'll
off as thought ; that unexpected cir
cumstances make it necessary to wait
some weeks longer than the time |
had thought of-that's true enough, at
any rate, but it can't go on forever
"Really, really And with money
too, you say, and such sensible wo-
man If you could reconcile yourself
to it, John. l am afraid the other
young lady is not likely to be her equal.
1t is the best advice 1 can give you.
But it seems to me very evident that
you are not going TO reconcile your
self. 1t is the most unfortunate affair. u
"Yes-with money. Will bring in
nice little income, she tells me
Money, Mr.. Puddicombe-money u
said the young man, suddenly starting
upright, and his countenance brighten
ing. 1T is nice thing to marry a
wife with money. And such common
sense, too. One would never have
rheumatism-you remember that let
ter And not in the least ugly plump
as partridge ; quite a-comfortable-
looking person. You should see her
you should really see her"
"Now, that is the way to talk, John.
That is reconciling ones self to the
situation. 1 am delighted to hear it, "
returned his friend, with genial coun-
tenance, "and l congratulate you
both"
"No-let me congratulate you in-
stead 1t has just occurred to me,
said John Westerbrook, gripping the
old gentleman's hand so wildly that a
proiane ejaculation disturbed the air.